


in our bedroom after the war

by somehowunbroken



Series: tonight, tonight [5]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2017 Memorial Cup, Cuddling, Fluff, M/M, Sad Hockey Players
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 01:51:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11003508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: They lose to Windsor, and Alex needs a minute.





	in our bedroom after the war

**Author's Note:**

> -my lucky otter socks failed us, y'all, and i'm sorry about that. they're banished to the laundry bin.
> 
> -but st john! WE CAN DO THIS
> 
> -title is from the stars album of the same name, but especially "[the beginning after the end](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0X2XzF34KBM)" and "[in our bedroom after the war](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c5qx_ZMY7tU)" (shocking, i know).

Alex holds his breath all the way down the tunnel, putting one foot in front of the other and not trusting himself to do any more than that. He's gripping his stick too tightly, but it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter. They lost.

Timpy looks crushed; Alex wants to go over and say something, but he needs a minute. He's good at this, at the after, but he just needs a few seconds to collect himself before he lets the rest of the guys take what they need from him.

"I got this," Dylan says quietly. Alex startles a little; he hadn't heard Dylan walk over, too stuck in his own thoughts. Dylan give him a brief, tight smile. "Breathe, babe."

Alex tries to smile back, but he knows his expression isn't great. He'll get there. He just… needs a minute, and Dylan's offering that to him, so he nods and looks down at his skates.

"Friday," Dylan says. He doesn't have to yell over anyone; there's no joy in the room right now, not like the previous two games, not like after winning the Robertson. He doesn't have to speak over anyone, but as soon as he starts to talk, Alex can tell that everyone's attention snaps to him. Dylan's a born leader, and Alex is really fucking proud of him and his ability to get people to stand up and follow him. "We are going to outplay, outskate, and outscore them on Friday, and when we get to the final on Sunday, Windsor will not know what to do with us."

Alex looks up and sees Dylan looking slowly around the locker room, meeting the eyes of the guys who can bear to look up at him. He takes his time, and when he turns enough that Alex can see his face, he feels something in his chest unlock a little. Dylan doesn't look like he's trying to convince them; he looks like he's reading it out of a newspaper, like it's already a fact and they just have to play through until they get to the conclusion he can already see. 

"We're gonna do it," Dylan says calmly. "We get one loss in this tournament. We just took it, so we're not going to lose anymore."

"We're gonna do it," Taylor says, full of conviction. He's always kind of looked at Dylan like he's got the answers to every question, and Alex is glad of it now, glad that he doesn't have to be the first one to say it.

"We are," Alex manages after Taylor nods and sits back, and the guys all look at him. "We know how to beat St. John. It won't be the same cakewalk, I'm sure, but we can _do_ this." He lets a mean smile cross his face. "And then we _destroy_ the Spitfires."

"Hell yeah," someone on the other side of Dylan shouts, and that's all they need, apparently, because there's suddenly a spark of life in the locker room, guys muttering about missed passes and bad plays, what they can do better next time. Alex turns to congratulate Dylan, but he's already across the room, sitting next to Timpy and leaning in close. Telling him it's not on him, Alex knows. It's the damn truth, too; they couldn't get him any goal support, and there's only so much he can do even if they turn up their shot suppression tactics to eleven.

"Hey," Pettit says, sitting down next to Alex and nudging his shoulder. "C'mon, man, out of your sweaty shit. You reek."

Alex snorts, but he gives Pettit a half-smile. "You're one to talk."

"I'm not marinating in my gross gear," Pettit responds. He's down to Under Armour and socks, and Alex is suddenly struck by the fact that he'd been the captain at the start of the year, and here he is now, A on his sweater because Dylan's back. Alex loves Dylan a lot, but he can't imagine being in Pettit's shoes, being an overager and knowing it's your only shot, but being gracious about it anyway.

"You're a good captain," Alex says, and Pettit blinks a few times, smile spreading slowly across his face.

"Don't let your taller half hear that," he says, but he sounds happy about it. "Thanks, Brinks. You don't do half-bad yourself." He pauses. "But you really need to work on getting to the shower."

Alex laughs and shoves him, but then he leans over to start unlacing his skates. He catches Dylan's eyes when he sits back up, and he starts moving faster; the sooner he gets clean, the sooner they can go back to the hotel and unwind. He knows there are probably a ton of texts on both of their phones, but they can wait. Nobody's going to say anything useful except for possibly Davo, and he'll send the same things to Coach anyway.

By the time Alex is down to his briefs, Dylan's back by his side, stripping out of his own gear. "Rinse, and we'll shower at the hotel?" he asks quietly, like that hadn't been Alex's plan already.

"Of course," Alex says, and the smile he manages this time is a lot better.

-0-

"We'll do better next time," Alex says later, when they're back in their hotel room, showered and sleepy and curled into each other. It's not often that Alex ends up laying on his back while Dylan uses him as a body pillow, but he never minds when it happens. Dylan's a lot bigger than he is, so it's kind of natural for it to go the other way; when Dylan needs to be held, though, he scoots down on the bed, and Alex wraps his arm around Dylan's shoulders and plays with his hair and presses absentminded kisses against his forehead. He doesn't like seeing Dylan like this, not ever, but he's glad that he can help when it happens.

Dylan lets out a soft sigh and plays with the hem of Alex's shirt. "I know, but it still sucks."

"Where's that confident captain speech, huh?" Alex teases gently, smiling at Dylan.

It makes Dylan shrug a little, though. "It's easier to be sure for other people, I guess."

"I'll be sure for you," Alex says, words spilling out before he has the chance to think them through. He scratches lightly at Dylan's scalp. "I can believe it for you tonight, how's that?"

"Sounds good," Dylan says. Alex can feel his smile against his chest. "You just can't let me be sad about it, huh?"

"About losing to _Windsor_?" Alex scoffs. "As if. We haven't lost a damn thing yet, babe, and we're not going to." He's had his moment; by the time they'd filed out of the locker room and onto the bus, Alex had believed Dylan's words with every fiber of himself. They're going to be better. They're going to _do_ it.

Dylan laughs a little. "This is why you're the best."

"Also because I bring you Red Vines," Alex adds.

"And that," Dylan agrees. "That's definitely a part of it, too."

"I know the secret," Alex says solemnly. "And I know that if you're having a _really_ bad day, I should skip the Red Vines and go right for the Cheetos."

"Cheetos," Dylan says, voice a little dreamy. He doesn't let himself have them during the season, because his relationship with Cheetos doesn't include any form of self-control, but Alex has a shopping bag full of the snack-sized bags stashed with the Raddyshes in case of emergency. They have a code word and everything, because Taylor is secretly a James Bond wannabe.

"Not tonight," Alex says sternly. "You don't need them."

Dylan sighs, clearly put out. "But I love them."

"You can fill the Cup with them," Alex says, grinning. "We will have to Windex the shit out of it after, but hey, that's what trophies are for." The bed starts to shake a little, and it takes a few seconds for Alex to realise that Dylan is trying and failing to hold in laughter. "What?"

"The 99," Dylan wheezes. "I'm just picturing the OHL MVP trophy with Cheetos exploding out everywhere."

Alex starts laughing, too; it's a giant _99_ on a base, no bowl in sight, and the mental image of it sitting in a sea of Cheetos is maybe not as funny as they're making it out to be, but it's been a long day. "It'd match Gretzky's Oilers jersey," he manages, and Dylan starts laughing even harder.

It takes them a whle to calm back down, mostly because when one of them starts getting his breath back, the other one will whisper "Cheetos" and it'll start all over again. Alex's shoulders are a lot less tense when they manage to stop laughing, and Dylan feels looser, lighter against his chest.

"You ready to sleep?" Alex asks when he's sure he's no longer in danger of cracking up again. "My Kindle is charged, if you wanna Netflix for a while."

"I think I'm good," Dylan says after a minute. He turns his head and presses a kiss to Alex's collarbone, the only thing he can really reach without moving. "Covers?"

Alex tugs them over, covering them both from the comforter up to the sheet. One of these nights they'll get around to actually sleeping under them, but tonight isn't going to win that contest. He brushes a kiss against Dylan's forehead and reaches down to tangle his fingers with Dylan's, resting against his stomach. "Sleep well."

"You too," Dylan replies, breathing already evening out. His ability to fall asleep is incredible, honestly.

Alex smiles. That's definitely something he can handle.

**Author's Note:**

> -please picture [the 99 trophy](http://ohl.uploads.s3.amazonaws.com/app/uploads/ohl/2017/05/12233911/Wayne-Gretzky-Trophy-presentaion-J-730x584.jpg) in a kiddie pool filled with cheetos.
> 
> -if anyone else wants to jump on the alex/dylan bandwagon and write some good luck fic, i will gladly share the tag with you! not gonna lie, it's super weird to click on a ship tag and see only my name in it.
> 
> -@AO3 can i have a proper tag, please? what's the minimum cutoff before i get one? this is fic #5, already.
> 
> -[follow me on tumblr](http://somehowunbroken.tumblr.com) for great hockey commentary, like me yelling PENGWINS into the void after game seven double OT.


End file.
